


tip of my tongue

by trustingno1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marauders' Era, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: "I want to lick you," Sirius announces, and Remus glances up from his parchment."You do," he says, briskly, "Frequently. In fact, it’s nothing short of miraculous that I don't have worms.""Padfoot does not haveworms," Sirius replies. That is anoutrageousattack upon his person - hisAnimagus?- but he won't let the blatantslandersidetrack him - "Not as Padfoot," he persists. "As a sex thing. Sexy licking."Sirius wants to rim Remus. He just wishes he had the words to explain that.





	tip of my tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm imagining these teenage boys, at a boarding school in the 1970s, not having too many resources for sex ed.

Sirius isn’t sure, precisely, when it started - when he started _thinking_ about it. Definitely not before he and Remus first Had Sex (he always says it like that, like it’s a momentous occasion requiring capitalisation, and Remus always rolls his eyes, like Sirius is being _ridiculous_ ).  
  
He thinks about it when he licks a sloppy line up the middle of Remus’ scrotum, separating his bollocks slightly and he tugs, lightly, at the head of Remus’ cock - thinks about it when he buries his face in Remus’ groin, hand flying over his own cock as he sucks in a shaky breath - thinks about it when he has Remus on his hands and knees, easing one finger inside him, the dark hair between his arse cheeks damp with sweat and lubricant  
  
(and what, he wonders, would it look like if his _spit_ -)  
  
He wonders if the skin there is soft and smooth (the way the inside of Remus' elbow feels against the tip of his nose), or rougher (similar to the back of Remus' heel, dragging up the back of Sirius' calf) - if smells like Remus' armpit after a Quidditch friendly - if it tastes like Remus' cock at all - and _Merlin_ he wants to know.  
  
It seems important that Remus know this. Now.  
  
"I want to lick you," Sirius announces, and Remus glances up from his parchment.  
  
"You do," he says, briskly, "Frequently. In fact, it’s nothing short of miraculous that I don't have worms."  
  
"Padfoot does not have _worms_ ," Sirius replies. That is an _outrageous_ attack upon his person - his _Animagus_? - but he won't let the blatant _slander_ sidetrack him - "Not as Padfoot," he persists. "As a sex thing. Sexy licking."  
  
"I am really uncomfortable with this conversation," Peter says, unhappily, from the other side of Remus, and Sirius blinks.  
  
"How long have you been there?" he demands.  
  
Peter glances down at his parchment. He and Remus are about six inches into a Defence essay. "A ... while?" he offers.  
  
There's a snort from the bed opposite, and Sirius whirls around to stare at James, stretched out, lazily levitating a toy Snitch above him.  
  
"Didn't you have detention?" he barks.  
  
James glances at him for a moment - the Snitch wobbles, precariously - "Yeah, an hour ago, Pads."  
  
Sirius lets that sink in. Has he really been thinking about it for that long? He turns back to Remus, who gives him an absurdly fond look.  
  
"All right, Sirius?" he murmurs.  
  
Sirius' mouth is dry.  
  
"Wormtail," he croaks, before swallowing, rallying. "Off. We need the bed."  
  
Peter looks at his parchment, then up at Sirius, reluctantly.  
  
"I'll finish your essay," Sirius says, desperately, and Peter doesn't look thrilled. "Remus will help," he adds, and Remus wrinkles his nose a bit. "Remus will check it when I'm done," he tries, and Remus' lips twitch. "Remus will _skim it over breakfast,_ " Sirius says, urgently, and Remus huffs out a soft laugh, and doesn't disagree.  
  
"OK," Peter says, gathering his parchment and text book slowly, and Sirius blasts them out of his hands and across the room to make him _move faster_.  
  
"Sirius," Remus sighs.  
  
Sirius yanks at his already slightly-loosened tie with one hand  
  
"This is happening now," he says, matter of fact.  
  
"The romance, Sirius," Remus says, dryly, "is overwhelming," and Sirius leans over to kiss him, gently, balancing on his knees on Remus' bed. Romance. He can do romance.  
  
James groans. "Close the _curtains_ ,” he says, and Sirius explodes his Snitch in reply. “Uncalled for,” James says, gravely, as stuffing rains down on his head, and Remus mends it with a quick _Reparo_. “You’re a mate, Moony,” James adds, pointedly.  
  
“Yes, yes,” Sirius says, testily. “Clothes coming off.”  
  
“This is a _shared room_ ,” Peter protests, half-heartedly.  
  
“Brilliant observation,” Sirius says, flatly, shrugging out of his robes.  
  
James sighs. “C’mon, Wormtail,” he says, getting to his feet. “Let’s go get hot chocolate from the kitchen.”  
  
Remus perks up a bit, at that.  
  
“Moony!” Sirius yelps.  
  
Remus smiles at him (the lovely kind of smile that makes his eyes all crinkly in the corners) and reaches out, pulling Sirius towards him by his school shirt.  
  
“I’m kidding,” Remus says, quietly, before kissing Sirius, once, very deliberately.  
  
Sirius kisses him back, soothed, as James slams the dorm door behind them.  
  
He pulls back briefly to lift his tie over his head, before swooping back in to kiss Remus again, still kneeling on his bed; he kisses Remus' mouth, his cheek, the line of his jaw, almost _frantic_ with his need to _taste_ him, and Remus settles him with a hand through his hair, tugging him back up to kiss slowly, the flit of his tongue in Sirius' mouth light and teasing.  
  
Sirius reaches down to unbuckle his belt, Remus reaching up to help with his shirt buttons, and it's taking too _long_ -  
  
He vanishes both their clothes, impatiently, and Remus blinks, hands hovering mid-air.  
  
"Any idea where you just sent our clothes?" Remus asks, as Sirius pounces on him, pressing him back into the mattress.  
  
"None at all," he admits, delicately kissing the spot just in front of Remus' ear, and he can feel Remus smile. He presses his cheek to Remus' for a moment, before squirming until he fits a leg between Remus', his mostly-soft cock pressed against his hip.  
  
Remus turns his head slightly, nudging Sirius' cheek with his lips until Sirius kisses him again, mouths open, Remus' teeth just grazing Sirius' lips.  
  
Sirius exhales shakily against his mouth, and Remus raises a hand to cup his cheek.  
  
"What's brought this on?" he murmurs, mild and amused, between kisses, and Sirius closes his eyes, brow furrowed.  
  
He steals a quick kiss, borrows some Gryffindor courage and whispers, "I want to try something."  
  
Remus' thumb is stroking his cheekbone. "Something to do with licking me?" he asks, quite shrewdly.  
  
(Sirius pauses. Revises the last ten minutes. Perhaps not that shrewd).  
  
Sirius kisses him harder. "Yes," he admits.  
  
Remus' thumb continues to stroke back and forth along his cheek, and Sirius presses into the touch.  
  
"And," Remus says, with another kiss, "specifically?"  
  
Sirius keeps his eyes closed. Is it even something people _do_? It’s not like there’s a book on this -  
  
(he pauses again. There might be, he amends. But not one available in the library, or even at Hogsmeade (confirmed with an aging-up potion and a completely _fruitless_ trip with the cloak to the curtained-off section of Tomes and Scrolls)).  
  
It seems perverted. Definitely wasn’t something that was covered in their one-off Health class (mostly contraceptive potions and a lubrication charm he pretended he wasn't memorising) -  
  
He wriggles an arm down between Remus' legs, fingertips tracing over his stirring cock, down over his bollocks - he hesitates - and _beyond_ -  
  
\- and Remus' breath catches.  
  
Sirius slowly opens his eyes. The fingertip of his middle finger nudges at Remus' dry entrance. His heart pounds.  
  
"Here," he says, throat tight, and Remus' expression is unreadable. "I want to lick you here."  
  
Remus blinks and licks his lips. Opens his mouth. Says nothing. He tries again. "Sirius," he says, a little unevenly, and Sirius' stomach lurches, as he pulls his hand back.  
  
"What - do you think I'm an utter pervert, now?" he asks, not nearly as carelessly as he'd like, and the corner of Remus' mouth curls up.  
  
"I've always thought that, Pads," he murmurs.  
  
"Moony!" he protests, but he relaxes, a little. Remus hasn't thrown him out of bed. Yet.  
  
Remus kisses his nose, apologetically, before studying him again. "Are you - sure?"  
  
Sirius takes a deep breath. "Yes. No." He ducks his head, until his breath is warm against the side of Remus' neck. "I just _cannot_ stop thinking about it." He feels Remus swallow.  
  
"Is that right?" Remus asks, voice level and _calm_ , and Sirius drags his lips up Remus' throat. "What do you think about?"  
  
Sirius' breath stutters, catches. "Spreading you open," he says, lowly, "Licking you. My tongue - inside you." Remus jerks at that, and against his thigh, Sirius feels - "Is this turning you on?" he asks, incredulously, and Remus snorts.  
  
"You're naked and on top of me," Remus says, dryly, "Of course it's-"  
  
Sirius cuts him off with a hard kiss. He feels dizzy and sick, still, but not with _nerves_ , not anymore -  
  
"Moony," he breathes, as he pulls back.  
  
Remus arches an eyebrow at him. "I'm not _opposed_ to the idea," he admits, and as Sirius shifts his leg more deliberately against him, his cheeks flush slightly, and Sirius' jaw slackens in shock.  
  
"You're saying 'yes'," he realises.  
  
*  
  
Apparently, there are _preparations_ that the ever-practical Remus has to make, preparations that have him sending Sirius outside the bed curtains for a few minutes.  
  
"What is _taking_ so long?" Sirius complains, plucking at the curtain.  
  
"Trust me, Sirius," Remus replies, sounding vaguely amused, "you don't want me to rush this."  
  
"This is ridiculous," Sirius pouts, "this is-"  
  
Remus yanks the curtains open and tugs him back inside.  
  
"- _brilliant_ ," Sirius finishes, with a grin, and Remus kisses him (likely, Sirius knows, from past experience, to shut him up).  
  
"How do you want me?" Remus asks, and Sirius leers at him. Remus stares back, face determinedly impassive, even as he flushes again.  
  
"On your stomach," Sirius says, dropping the leer, and Remus nods, slowly.  
  
"Right," he says, and doesn't move.  
  
"I'll stop," Sirius blurts out, and Remus blinks. "If you don't like it," he clarifies, "Or if I don't. I might not." He shrugs. He might be panicking a little.  
  
Remus' expression softens. "I know," he says, gently, kiss just as soft. "And if I don't like it, or if you don't like it, we'll just do something else." He thumbs Sirius' nipple affectionately, and Sirius settles a bit. Sounds simple, put like that.  
  
Remus rolls onto his stomach, and Sirius slowly kneels behind him, between his legs. He leans forward, bracing his hands on the mattress either side of Remus, and kisses a path down the curve of his back, over scars usually hidden underneath cardigans. He leans in, lips trailing lower -  
  
\- and is _assaulted_ by an offensive, unfamiliar scent.  
  
"Exactly how many times did you _Scourgify_?" he murmurs, and Remus buries his face in the crook of his elbow. "For reference."  
  
"A few," he hedges, voice muffled, and Sirius nips at the fleshy part of his arse cheek in protest.  
  
"If we do this again," he says, softly, "Maybe once will suffice," and Remus tenses against the mattress. "Just - if," he says, with a gentle kiss to the same spot, and Remus takes a deep breath, before relaxing.  
  
Sirius swallows, and gently parts Remus' arse cheeks, his pale skin soft beneath Sirius' hands. He places gentle, dry kisses at the top of his crack.  
  
He hesitates.  
  
"We don't have to," Remus says, quietly, "If you've changed your mind-"  
  
"I've done nothing of the sort," Sirius scoffs. "I'm just - formulating my plan."  
  
"Ah," Remus says, "yes. Plans. Always a priority of yours. Quite unlike you to act impulsively."  
  
There's something in his tone - and Sirius pulls back slightly. "Is this about Exploding Snap?"  
  
"If you hadn't tried to _modify_ an already completely _serviceable_ game-"  
  
"We grew your eyebrows back!"  
  
"The left one never completely recovered," Remus grumbles, and Sirius, relaxing a little, rubs the back of his thigh, briskly, in a wordless thanks.  
  
He parts Remus' arse cheeks again, and leans back down, huffs out a warm breath, and watches, fascinated, as his entrance clenches. He lowers his mouth and laps at Remus, quickly, cautiously, and Remus sucks in a sharp breath.  
  
"OK?" he checks, and Remus hums his agreement.  
  
He licks him again, the skin wrinkly and soft, the scent musky and Remus and _new_ , and he traces the tip of his tongue around Remus' entrance, mapping it.  
  
He sticks his tongue out further, lapping at him with the flat of his tongue - and _yes, that_ (what he'd been imagining when he dared think about this). He laps at Remus, again and again, before wriggling his tongue against him without pause, and Remus' right leg shifts - an aborted move to lift up into the touch.  
  
Sirius pauses, scooting further down the bed and craning his neck, and Remus reaches up and grabs a pillow, wordlessly passing it back to him.  
  
" _Moony_ ," Sirius says, gravely, "Some might call you a swot-"  
  
" _You_ call me a swot, Pads," Remus mumbles, lifting his hips so Sirius can shove the pillow under him.  
  
Sirius ignores him, "but I find your cleverness rather attractive."  
  
"That's touching, Sirius, truly," Remus says, "but could we possibly-"  
  
Sirius leans in again and kisses his entrance, open-mouthed, all gentle pressure and suction, and he _loves_ this, loves the way Remus feels under his lips, his tongue, and he groans as Remus' hips push against the pillow, reaching down to give himself a couple of slow strokes.  
  
He works his tongue for a moment, gathering a bit of spit and pushing it into Remus, smearing it with mouth, until he's lovely and shiny and slick -  
  
Not quite slick enough for what he wants though, so he fumbles for his wand, mumbling a quick lubricating spell.  
  
Remus jerks in surprise at the feeling, and Sirius rubs at his entrance with his first finger. He dips it just inside, so wet and tight and _hot_ , and presses forward, steadily, until his knuckles are pressed up against Remus' taint.  
  
He angles his hand down a bit more so he can lick around the top of his finger as much as he can, and Remus lets out a startled cry.  
  
Sirius pauses, before moving his hand back up and down again, more deliberately, working his knuckles against Remus this time, and Remus shifts, abruptly, lifting up with Sirius' finger still inside him until he's kneeling, his head and elbows on the bed, and Merlin, Sirius' cock throbs at the sight.  
  
Remus loves being fingered, but it's more than that - something about the spot he's pressing on with his knuckles, so he pulls his finger back out and rubs at the spot behind Remus' bollocks as he ducks his head to work his tongue back inside him.  
  
"Fuck, Pads, you're _inside_ me," Remus gasps, as his hips rock against, into, the touch.  
  
Sirius pulls back for a moment. "Language," he gets out, " _Prefect_." He pushes his tongue back inside Remus, can hear the slap of Remus' frantic hand on his cock.  
  
Remus rolls his hips as Sirius rubs that spot he seems to like so much, jerking too much for Sirius to do much more than flatten his tongue and let Remus push against his face.  
  
" _Sirius_ ," he says, chest heaving, and Sirius groans against him. He reaches down with his free hand to rub, clumsily, at his cock a couple of times, as Remus' hand speeds up.  
  
Remus pushes back against him for a moment before he starts to come with a soft cry, hips snapping forward as he humps into his hand.  
  
Remus stills, panting, before falling back onto his stomach, shoving the pillow out of the way with a disgusted little noise, and Sirius braces himself over him, pushing his cock between Remus' arse cheeks, dragging it slowly through the spit and lube until he's nice and slick (and it's drying quickly, but, _oh_ , this won't take long-)  
  
Remus let him _lick_ him, he thinks, as his hand flies over his cock, and he can still _taste_ him (Remus, and a hint of lemony _Scourgify_ ), because he had his tongue _inside_ Remus - Remus, who's gone all floppy-limbed and sleepy beneath him, who wouldn't do anything as obvious as _wiggle_ , but definitely shifts his hips deliberately in encouragement -  
  
(he _licked_ Remus)  
  
\- he shortens his tugs as he feels his bollocks tightening, before it all peaks and he's coming, coming over Remus' arse, with the spit and the lube and a groan, and collapses onto the bed, narrowly avoiding crushing Remus.  
  
Remus rubs his cheek against the pillow and studies him, as Sirius catches his breath.  
  
"Was it worth it?" he mumbles, eyelids drooping, and Sirius is so, completely _gone_ on him.  
  
"Worth what?" Sirius whispers back.  
  
Remus gives him a little half-smile. "Finishing Pete's essay." Sirius groans, and Remus' smile deepens. He did say he'd finish that, didn't he? He can't break a promise to another _Marauder_. His honour is at stake! But - "Yes," he admits, "It was more than worth waking up ten minutes early to finish Pete's essay-"  
  
"Ten minutes? Sirius, you'll need at least half an hour-"  
  
Sirius snorts. "I'm not spending _half an hour_ on homework that's not even _mine_ -"  
  
"I'll help you," Remus says, probably more for Pete's benefit than his, and Sirius beams at him.  
  
He shuffles closer to plant a kiss on Remus, but Remus' lips pinch and pucker, quickly.  
  
Sirius blinks at him. "You didn't taste like anything _bad_ ," he says, "Almost like-"  
  
"There is absolutely no situation," Remus says, looking a bit more alert, "in which I would need to know how that sentence ends."  
  
Sirius huffs a sigh, and makes a show of kissing Remus' bare shoulder. He pauses there, and murmurs, against his skin - for, for _all of it_ ; for everything tonight (for not taking the mick, or being revolted, and a little for helping finish the bloody _essay_ , but mostly for being altogether the _loveliest_ and _best_ -), "Thank you."


End file.
